


"They can't hurt you."

by sincerelysag



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Comfort, I may have cried while writing this story, One Shot, Wholesome, bad dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysag/pseuds/sincerelysag
Summary: Staying at her Uncle Stan and Ford's house for the weekend, the 6 year old girl awakens one night from having a terrible nightmare. Unable to fall back asleep and too scared to be in the dark attic any longer, she wanders to wake up one of the two. Stanford provides her with comfort and a bedtime story to put her back to sleep.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Original Character
Kudos: 8





	"They can't hurt you."

The scattered remains of bones and tattered rags began to tremble and quake as they made their way back to each other. Sounds of old, forgotten voices and moans filled the air in a cacophony of terror, The bones began to reassemble themselves into their proper anatomy. The skeletons took staggered steps towards her, their lanky hands reaching out to grasp her small frame. As they did so, a clavicle detached from one, a jaw from another. It was a horrific sight, and yet, she was frozen in fear. She was unable to look away. 

Opening her mouth in an attempt to cry for help, she found that no noise followed. Instead, what replaced it, was blood gushing and dribbling down her chin in thick and warm clumps. Hands trembled as she caught the crimson mess. She wanted to cry but was unable to. 

A dismembered hand reached for her ankle, gaining hold. Looking down in horror, the young girl shook her leg hard. Successfully, she relinquished its' hold, watching as it struck one of the skeletons. Responding with rage, the skeleton drew a long saber from its' side. With the blade hoisted in the air, the skeletons were prompted to charge after the young girl. 

In a panic, she raced from the scene, up several flights of rickety, wooden steps. The stairwell seemed to go on forever. Though she didn't turn her head, in fear she would become stuck once more, the little one ran as fast as her legs could take her. An orchestra of screeches and bony fingers clawing into the floorboards and walls around her, drove chills down her spine and goosebumps on her skin. 

Bursting through the door, she found herself out on the main deck of what seemed to be a pirate ship. Surrounded by the raging seas, she watched as lightening emerged from dark and ominous clouds. Her hands were pushed up against her ears to protect them from the thunderous roar that she knew came after. The wind blew harshly against her, whipping her hair in all different directions. It threatened to knock her over.

The army of the undead soon appeared from the quarters, joining her on the deck with weapons in their grasp. They approached her, cornered her. Attempting to scream again, she backed away instinctively, helplessly. _Was this to be the end of a life lived too short?_

The skeleton pirates had gotten her out on the plank of their ship, the edges of their blades pointed at her.

She had no where else to go. She was her own savior now. 

The little girl looked down towards the unforgiving sea, watching with wide and tearful eyes as it opened up into darkness. Before she was able to process her grotesque fate, she was falling backwards into the abyss. 

_Thud!_

Eyes slammed open, heart racing as she stared up towards the ceiling. She lay in a puddle of her own cold sweat and urine. The mattress she laid on had been soiled due to her night terror.

She took a few moments to herself before she was brave enough to get out of bed. Uncle Stan had shown her the dresser in the attic, welcoming her to some of Mabel's old clothes in case of situations like this. Wetting the bed wasn't uncommon for the girl, unfortunately. Though her cousin's clothes were quite large on her, she was thankful for the dryness of them. 

* * *

**"** _Uncle Ford?_ **"**

She stood at the door, a display of messy hair and sweat stricken cheeks. These were the signs of heavy sleep, however, her rest had been disturbed. Stuffed in her clenched hand was the small trusted blanket she refused to sleep without. A quiet whimper escaped her as she brought it up to her mouth for safety. The vivid scenes from her night terror still danced and played in her head. 

With her free hand, she held onto the door frame, peeking into the dark room as the door was slightly ajar. **"** _Um-,_ **"** She was shy in her attempts to wake him from his slumber, though craving any kind of refuge from her mind. 

Darkness enveloped the young girl as she grew impatient for her uncle to respond. There was a portable nightlight installed in the hallway for instances when she had to use the toilet, though, it wasn't bright enough to provide her with the comfort she needed now. The shadows surrounding her were viable places for monsters to lurk, at the ready to pounce on her and steal her away. Inching closer towards to room, her body now in the doorway, she called out again. This time, she was a bit louder. She was anxious to get from the eerie gloom and into her uncle's embrace. 

When there was no response once again, she decided to enter. Old metal hinges creaked as she gingerly pushed on the door. The dim light from the hallway was enough to shed illumination on the path to the bed where her uncle slept. The room was silent other than the steady sound of snoring. It was audible but from her observations, not as boisterous as her Uncle Stan's; his snores resembled more of a bear. She often heard it whenever making quick trips to the toilet. 

As she reached her slumbering uncle, the girl lifted a hand to poke his arm that hung over the mattress from under the comforter. This brought a stir from him in response. 

**"** _Uncle Ford._ **"**

A tired hum answered her, Stanford awakening from his rest. It took only a moment before he was wakeful enough to piece together that it was his niece that was calling for him. In a groggy tone, he acknowledged her.

 **"** _Sweetheart- What are you doing up? It's late._ **"** His voice was a bit more gruff than usual, vocal chords regaining their strength after having rested for some time. 

Extending his arm, Stanford stretched a bit to awaken the light at his nightstand. The little girl stood at his bedside. He was able to make out her fuzzy complexion. Dragging his hand over his worn face, he stretched his mouth with a yawn. One hand wandered over to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses. Folding them open, Ford placed them over his eyes, blinking in the new contrast of lighting. He was able to see her much more clearly, brows furrowing to accompany a frown as he saw the bright red cheeks, sweaty forehead, and tear stained eyelashes. 

**"** _I had a bad dream,_ **"** The little one piped up, holding her blanket close to her chest. 

Shifting himself over on the mattress, he propped himself up, glancing over towards the digital clock. _1:30._ _The poor girl._

Returning to her, Stanford sat up now, patting the spot beside him to invite her up. **"** _Do you want to talk about it?_ **"**

This received a prompt shake of her head. **"** _I don't want to remember. It was scary._ **"**

Understanding that it was perhaps still a fresh terror to try and resurface, Ford slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. It didn't seem like she wanted to attempt to lay down again. Sleep was not something she wished to return to at the moment, she feared she would only be dropped back into the nightmare where she left off. 

He was more than willing to stay up with her and help her calm down from her bad dream. Reaching down towards her, the little girl looked up, gratefully placing her hand in his as they made their way downstairs. 

* * *

**"** _Are you thirsty?_ **"** Stanford lowered his hand to brush aside the bushel of messy hair atop the girls' head as they walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

With an immediate nod of her head, he smiled. **"** _What can I get for you?_ **"**

Entering the kitchen, Ford flipped on a switch at the wall beside him. The lamp dangling over the breakfast nook came to life with light. The dining area had always been cozy and full of warmth. The girl enjoyed it for the memories it brought. The mornings spent with her Uncles, eager to listen to their heavily embellished stories. She enjoyed the dinners she was able to partake in when her cousins Dipper and Mabel came in the summers. There wasn't a time when she was reluctant or unwilling to go to the shack on weekends. 

**"** _Can I have a soda?_ **"** The young girl took her place at the breakfast nook, presenting Ford with a vibrant grin. She was sure that if she asked politely and sat quiet, he would oblige. Turning to acknowledge her, he chuckled at the valiant attempt. Her smile faltered, she knew that throaty laugh meant she wouldn't be getting her way. 

**"** _I'm afraid it's a little late for you to be drinking that. Your parents **did** say no sugar before bed. That may be why you had such a bad dream. Has Uncle Stan been giving you ice cream before bedtime again?_ **"**

She had promised her Uncle she wouldn't "rat him out," (or so he would say). She still wasn't quite sure what that meant, why would she give him rats? At any rate, if she wanted to continue getting late night treats, she knew she would have to keep her mouth shut. 

The girl gave him an eager shake of the head, her posture stiffening. Lying wasn't a quality she carried well, this was apparent in her body language. **"** _Uh huh-_ **"** Ford huffed, having gotten his answer. He would have to have a talk with his brother about this. 

**"** _Well, let's see here, we have water, apple juice- I can make you some tea, if you'd like._ **"** He presented her with other alternatives, hoping one of them struck her interest. 

**"** _What six year old drinks tea?_ **"** She inquired. This was amusing to Stanford as he straightened himself up, deciding upon the jug of fresh milk. Being hunched over the way he was wasn't kind on his back, placing a hand to rub at his tired muscles. **"** _How does milk sound?_ **"**

She obliged.

* * *

The two sat at the breakfast nook under the light of the lantern. The young girl drank from the glass of cold milk, unknowing of how thirsty she truly was. Pulling back the glass, a thick white stash was left behind on her upper lip. Looking up from some papers, Stanford chuckled. Grabbing a paper towel from the center of the round table, he leaned over to wipe it off. In doing so, the notebook he had been writing and doodling in was set down. 

Almost instantly, the young girl straightened up against her chair. Those pictures looked like the characters in her nightmare. An overwhelming fear came rushing back, she appeared as though she could start crying from the memory of it. 

**"** _What? What is it?_ **"** Just after having asked, Ford traced her gaze. An empathetic grin crossed his lips before he gently closed the journal and tucked it away. **"** _Ah, I see._ _Is that what your nightmare was about?_ **"** He would have to stop filling the poor girl's head with such stories before bedtime. He took responsibility for having scared her so.

Holding her blanket close to act as her protective shield, she examined with wide eyes as her uncle rose and approached her. Bending down to her level, he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her body up against him. He grunted as he did so. 

Surprised by this, but finding solace in the hold, she wrapped her arms around him. 

**"** _They can't hurt you. They would have to go through me and your Uncle Stan, first._ **"** She gave her head a nod, smiling comfortably as she rested her chin down against his shoulder. The girl watched as they made their way up the stairs to her bedroom. The light was turned off. She remembered the stories Stan would tell her about how he was a world-famous boxer (which may or may not have been another embellished story), those pirates wouldn't stand a chance against him. The thought brought her rest.

* * *

Being full from the glass of milk and having waned off the remaining fear, the promise of sleep was creeping back in. Her mouth stretched into a yawn.

Stanford had successfully striped the bed of the soiled sheets, tossing them into a laundry basket to clean. Laying down a new cover for her to sleep on, he spread his hands across the fabric to work out any wrinkles. Turning to his niece, he smiled, patting the mattress. 

Reluctantly, she crawled into bed, getting herself situated while Stanford help pull the covers over her small figure. **"** _There, all comfortable?_ **"** He asked sweetly, grinning at her as he tucked the sides of the blanket in around her. 

**"** _Uncle Ford? I don't want to go to sleep. I'm afraid I'll have the nightmare again._ **"**

Stanford sat on the edge of her bed. Gently reaching over to the side, he produced a small stuffed animal, placing it beside her head. With his fingers, he tucked loose strands of hair back. 

**"** _Sweetheart, you have to go to sleep. I can't let you stay up all night, as much as I'd like to. You'll feel much better going to sleep than you would if you didn't._ **"**

The young girl stammered in protest to this, truly not wanting to face her terror again. That seemed to be the only option. Ford devised a plan, certain it would succeed. 

**"** _Tell you what, if you stay in bed, I'll tell you a story._ **"**

**"** _Can you tell the story about the mermaids you met?_ **"** Her fingers curled around the blanket in excitement. Ford chortled softly. 

**"** _You want me to tell you that story again? How many times have you heard it now?_ **"** It was absolutely comical to him how she never grew tired of hearing of his encounter with the mermaids. At this point, having told it so many times, he had memorized a mental script. But, if he could assist in his niece's slumber, he would tell it a million times again. 

**"** _It's my favorite. Please?_ **"**

* * *

Stanford told the tale the young girl knew so well. He told her again of the grotto the mermaids called their home, decorated and lined with beautiful shells and marine life. He described how mesmerizing their songs were, reciting the poetry he heard from them. Ford was always careful to leave out the details of almost being brought to a watery death, discovering the corpses of many men who fell for their enchantments before him. After all, she didn't need to know all of the details. 

He watched in contentment as his niece drifted off into a sound slumber, happy that he could help. 

Slowly getting up from the bed, meticulous not to wake the girl, he leaned over and planted a feather light kiss to her forehead. 

Stanford picked up the laundry basket that contained the dirty sheets and pajamas, making his way quietly out the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this one-shot as much as I loved writing it. If this gets enough positive feedback I may write a similar story with Stan.


End file.
